


Temptation (A Cautionary Tale)

by lisachan



Series: Leoverse [217]
Category: Glee
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 13:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20640191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisachan/pseuds/lisachan
Summary: Blaine has a boyfriend - or, to say it in his own words, he accidentally fell into boyfriendhood without noticing. And that's a problem because now this boyfriend expects something of him, something he doesn't want to provide.A booklet found at the bottom of a corn flakes box, a yapping dog and an unforeseen meeting with a lonely child on the beach will help him make up his mind about the whole situation.





	Temptation (A Cautionary Tale)

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNING:** This story is a **what if** from the original 'verse. In the canon course of events that, from Leonard Karofsky-Hummel VS The World, led to Broken Heart Syndrome, **this has never happened**.
> 
> BE PREPARED TO MEET PAGNOTTA.
> 
> Also Blaine is the worst in this, I know. I don't mind, I still love him.

_“This story begins with a dog, a man and an island. Beware, boys and girls, it's a cautionary tale, so listen closely. Might serve you in the future._

_It was a nice early autumn evening, uncannily warm, and the man was heartbroken. Sitting down on the beach he kept looking at the vastity of the ocean and couldn’t help matching it with the vastness of his own pain.”_

How odd, Blaine thinks, holding the little booklet between his thumb, index and middle finger, that this story would get so close to the reality of his situation at the moment. Sure, there’s no dog on sight and Coney Island hardly is an island at all, but he’s a man, it is a very nice, very warm October night, he is actually looking at the vastity of the ocean matching it with the vastness of his own sadness and he is heartbroken.

Sure, one might argue that his heartbreak is entirely of his own doing, but that would be beyond the point and Blaine is not interested in listening to any inner voice that’s not chanting hymns of self-pity and self-comfort.

He goes on reading.

_“He should have known right from the start that it would’ve never worked out. She and him could never last, it was a matter of life goals, projects, expectations. She wanted to settle down, she came from a long list of fruitless, depressing relationship and she was chasing The One, the one who would’ve finally be able to make her happy, satisfied, complete, the one who could’ve managed to give her everything she ever wanted._

_He was a loner, a free spirit, no long-lasting relationship except maybe that one in high-school, if it’s even possible to consider one year out of thirty-three long-lasting at all._

_He couldn’t give her what she wanted. He couldn’t even give himself what he wanted.”_

Blaine frowns, flipping the booklet over to observe the cover and the back. They both undoubtedly bear the avian logo of a well-known corn flakes brand, the same logo that was on the box this little book came out of this morning. 

He knows, he picked it out himself.

Once established that, he thinks about three different things, all in rapid succession.

One, what the fuck was Kellogg’s marketing division thinking in putting a booklet such as this in a cereal box? This is definitely an inappropriate choice, most unsuitable for children, not so much because of the language and tone but because what the fuck does a child care about the pitiful rambling of a flirting-with-middle-age man sitting on a fucking beach on a random island, waiting for a dog that never comes?

Two, who the hell was spying on him while writing down this shit?

And three, naturally, Thackeray. He thinks of Thackeray. Of course he does – he’s the reason he’s out here on a Friday evening in October, instead of home, getting ready to dance his ass off all night at the 3 dollar bill. 

He needed to get out, get away – take a breather. Staying home is becoming harder and harder each day. At this point in their relationship, Thackeray doesn’t have to do much more than looking at him to make him feel under pressure. Every time Blaine catches his gaze he feels guilty, judged, pressured into doing things, taking decisions he’s not ready nor willing to take.

Thackeray and him met three years ago at a common friend’s birthday party. They had sex the very same night they met, it was drunken sex, messy, smelling of alcohol more than sweat, hazy, numbing, very pleasant nonetheless. Next morning they woke up side by side and couldn’t even remember each other names, so they chuckled embarrassed, shared a brief breakfast at the first Starbucks down the road and wisely chose not to exchange numbers.

It looked like a done thing, something that didn’t need to be dragged out unnecessarily. It had been pleasant enough not to want to destroy the memory with a half-assed attempt at turning it into anything else none of them were even sure they wanted.

For more than six months, Thackeray had remained just that – an unconventional, sexy name attached to a pretty face and a nice memory to see it in whenever Blaine (very rarely, to be completely honest) chose to revisit it. 

Then they had met again, this time at work. Thackeray is a choreographer and back then he was working on a production Blaine had been hired for. They met again with unadulterated happiness, they worked well together, Blaine danced for and with him for hours during rehearsals, and then, one night, sharing a beer on top of the Winter Garden Theatre, he had kissed him, and they had had sex again. The sun was setting, the weather was warm, no one could see them and it felt right. They were less drunk, more complicit, and the sex had been a whole different experience than the first time. They cherished it, and by the time it was over this time they both remembered each other’s name, but still they chose not to push things any further, and once the production was over they too were over, no regrets, no apologies, it just felt right and they didn’t fight the farewell when they felt it push against their lips as they said goodbye.

But they met again, a year later, and third time’s the charm, or so they say, and so they thought it should be for them too.

Once again, it was work bringing them together, even though in a different form. Blaine was trying to produce something by himself, he didn’t have huge ambitions, he just had a story to tell; he had found a good lyricist and the songs were flawless, he had a couple of actors, new acts, he felt he could push towards stardom and he needed a good choreographer to tie all of that together with a nice, flowing ribbon, and he had thought of Thackeray, naturally. 

Sliding back into the old routine was easy, at that point. Blaine had kissed him on the third night of working together on the dance moves up to three in the morning. They had had sex on the stage, in the bathroom, on top of one of the cafeteria’s tables and in every possible corner of Blaine’s house – and that was it, they were together.

It’s been almost a year since then, and Blaine knows it’s only natural for Thackeray to wonder what comes next, if they can level up, what does the future hold in store for them.

But Blaine has no answers for all these questions. He has no idea what comes next, he highly doubts they can level up and if he thinks about what the future holds in store for them, well, in his mind, that’s a closed door, and one of them on each side of it.

He sighs deeply and checks the time on his phone. Not even 7 PM. He can stay a little longer.

He resumes reading.

_“The man kept staring at the horizon – he didn’t know what to do. He tried to find solace in the beauty of the setting sun, but his heart was in too deep in darkness to truly feel anything else but despair.”_

Alright, he thinks, raising an eyebrow, that’s a little dramatic. Perhaps this story isn’t really about him.

_“And just when the man was about to stand up and walk fully-clothed into the ocean, that’s when the dog appeared.”_

Yep, the story had finally detached from his reality to go back to fantasy. It had some common points with him, sure, but that’s over now, he certainly doesn’t want to suicide and there’s no dog in sight.

“Yap.”

And obviously that’s a dog, sitting on its rounded ass on the sand right in front of him.

“No, no, no,” Blaine says, waving his index finger at the dog, “Who are you even? You can’t be here.”

“Yap.”

“Do not yap at me, little one, it’s disrespectful. Go on, go your merry way, get lost,” he adds, shooing it away.

The dog, a tiny thing with white long fur sprinkled with sand and a nice little blue bow holding its bangs up so that it doesn’t trip on its own fur as it walks or ends up banging against streetlamps because it didn’t get to see them in time as it trots blindly on the sidewalks, keeps sitting in front of him, completely deaf to his invitations.

“Yap,” it says.

Blaine frowns. “You don’t understand,” he tries to reason with the dog, “I need you to leave because if you stay then my life is on this book,” he explains, lifting up the booklet between two fingers and showing it to the yapping creature, “And I can’t afford that, because I picked this thing up out of a cereal box and if it turns out it _is_ actually foretelling my life, then I will die drowning myself in the Atlantic Ocean for a man I don’t even care that much for. Do you understand?”

“Yap,” says the dog, and eagerly crawls on his lap.

Blaine sighs and turns the page of the booklet, reading another sentence.

_“The dog crawled on the man’s lap.”_

He wisely chooses to put the book away – he doesn’t want to read a single more word out of it.

Then, “Pagnotta!”, someone yells, and Blaine barely has the time to tell himself that that is a hell of a funny word, when the owner of the voice who said it appears in front of him.

It’s a boy – probably around twelve years old, by the look of him. Stunning, if he can say it to himself without his own inner police wanting to drag him down to prison and turn him into someone’s Little Mary. He’s got dark, straight hair framing the face of a porcelain doll, almost completely eaten out by the hugest pair of baby blue eyes Blaine has ever seen. He’s got lips that look painted on Murano glass and he’s basically completely naked.

And Pagnotta’s clearly his dog’s name.

“Pagnotta!” the boy calls again, stopping his run next to Blaine and bending over, his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath, “Get immediately off the man’s lap!”

“It’s alright, kid, don’t fret,” Blaine says, blinking, “Breathe first, I don’t need you to die on me tonight.”

“I’m-- I’m so sorry!” the boy insists, looking up at him with such shame in his eyes for a moment Blaine wonders if the dog actually shat on him. But the dog is simply yapping and nothing dramatic seems to have happened. “I was taking a bath and I left him on the shore, I thought he’d follow me into the sea but he ran away instead.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” Blaine says, smiling a little, “He must smell the cat – I have one at home.” Together with an unwanted boyfriend, he’d like to add, but he doesn’t say that.

“Ah, yes, that must be it!” the kid nods quickly, “He loves cats.”

“And here I was, thinking little Paniotta loved me,” Blaine smirks.

The kid blushes furiously, shaking his hands and head at the same time. “Ah-- no-- Mr. Anderson, I didn’t mean--”

Blaine opens his eyes wide, looking up at the boy. “You know me? Incredible. What are you, eleven, twelve…?”

“I’m… fourteen, sir.” Still illegal, Blaine thinks with an inner sigh.

“Still,” he insists, “It’s not common for a Broadway actor to be known by a boy your age. We’re not exactly Hollywood stars.”

“Um… my mom’s a huge Broadway geek,” the boy explains, looking down with clear embarrassment, “She kinda passed it on to me.”

“Well, good for you, pet,” Blaine nods, “I’d take one sitting through West Side Story over the whole Star Wars Saga. I had parts in both, so I should know.”

The boy raises his eyes on him in shock. “You were in Star Wars, sir…?”

“Small part, no one remembers it, I regret it deeply,” Blaine says, waving his hand in mid-air. “But anyway. I do appreciate your mom’s taste in entertainment, but I have to say I kind of disagree with her on parental skills. What was she thinking sending your to the beach on a day like this? It’s growing colder in the nights, don’t you know?”

The kid shrugs, sitting down with his knees gathered to his chest next to him, since the dog fell asleep on Blaine’s lap and doesn’t seem to have any intention to leave any soon. “She’d be very angry if she knew I was here, as a matter of fact,” he says, “I’m on holiday right now. I’m staying at my aunt’s place, she has a small restaurant with her husband here. I’m not from New York, originally.”

“This is a weird time of the year to be on holiday, you know that, right?” Blaine muses, unconvinced, “Don’t you have school?”

The kid hugs his own knees tighter and looks down, uncertainly. “I needed a break from it, sir,” he says, and he says it in such a way Blaine immediately knows he should let the topic go.

“I see,” he nods, “And where are you from, originally?”

“Lima, Ohio, sir.”

Blaine turns to look at him, his eyes wide open. “Seriously? I have a dear friends there, Kurt--”

“Hummel, sir, I know,” he nods, and then his lips open in the tiniest, most adorable smile. “Broadway geek, remember?”

“...right,” Blaine chuckles, “So you already know my name, pet, but what is yours?”

“Cody, sir.”

“Cody. Nice to meet you,” Blaine extends his hand and Cody shakes it with a little embarrassment. “It’s dangerous to bathe this time of the year, so be careful. Your Paniotta was smart not following you into the water, he might’ve caught a cold.”

“Um… sir,” Cody looks down, his cheeks pinker than ever, “That’s-- That’s not his name.”

“Oh,” Blaine blinks a couple of times. He thought he got the name quite good. “So what is it?”

“No-- I mean, that’s his name but you’re saying it wrong. I mean… I didn’t mean to sound harsh,” Cody blushes furiously and covers his face with both hands, whining. “It’s just-- it’s Pa_gn_otta, sir, not Pa_ni_otta.”

“Ah, I see,” Blaine nods, looking down at the dog, still asleep on his lap, “That’s a weird word, pet, you know? What does it mean?”

“It’s Italian for bread loaf, actually,” Cody chuckles.

“Italian!” Blaine beams, half-turning to look at him, “I knew you looked too beautiful to be an American. So you’re from Italy, then?”

“Well, I was born in the USA, sir,” Cody chuckles again, “But my mom’s from Palermo, Sicily. She was born there and then she moved here with her family when she was a child. Pagnotta’s her dog but he’s very close to me and I… kinda needed a friend,” he looks away for a second, “So I took him with me.”

“I understand,” Blaine smiles and reaches out to stroke his shoulder. The kid’s still wet, and he grows a little worried. “Aren’t you cold, though? You really shouldn’t take baths so late in the day, Cody, it’s not good for your health.”

“I-- I feel fine, sir,” but that doesn’t stop Blaine from taking off his denim jacket and putting it on him. He honestly doesn’t care if it gets wet and ruined. “Um… can I ask you a question now, sir?” the kid says, and Blaine suddenly realizes up to now he’s been third-grading him incessantly, and he feels ashamed about it.

“God-- sure, pet, I don’t mind,” he smiles, “Shoot.”

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Leave it to kids to always have arrows in store instead of questions.

“Well, I’m...” he thinks about it, and he himself doesn’t know what to say. Is he running away? From confrontation, responsibility, consequences? Is he just taking some time for himself? Is he disrespecting a man that did nothing wrong but fall for him or is he disrespecting himself by forbidding himself to just say the truth and walk out of a relationship he barely feels anything for? “I was thinking, I guess.”

“Can I ask about what?”

Blaine smiles a little, shrugging. “My boyfriend.”

“Oh-- you have one, sir?”

“Please,” Blaine laughs, “Stop calling me _sir_, we’re not in the army and you’re making me feel older than I am.” Then he sighs, resting back on his elbows in the sand. “I do have a boyfriend. Or I suppose it should be more precise to say I fell into boyfriendhood without noticing, like Alice fell down the rabbit hole.”

“What… what does that mean?”

“Well, it means...” he sighs again, “That I got together with this man, and I like him, don’t get me wrong, I like him enough, but he’s virtually moved into my home and we spend every day together, and… you know what does it for me? What really means you’ve turned into a boyfriend?” Cody shakes his head, and Blaine goes on. “When we sleep together even though we haven’t fucked. Oh, Jesus, shouldn’t I have said the word?” he stops for a second, but Cody simply laughs and shakes his head, so he goes on, petting Pagnotta all the while, “Well, you know, we have dinner together, we watch some TV, you stay the night, we get into bed and we don’t fuck but we still sleep side by side? You’re a boyfriend now, you’ve leveled up. And I guess… when this is something you’re searching for, when this kind of relationship is what you want, that might feel good, but when it happens without you noticing, just out of habit, without you actively wanting it… that’s the worst. Do you get it?”

“… I think I do, Mr. Anderson, but--” Cody looks at him as if he couldn’t read him correctly, “What is the problem with this guy?”

“No, there is no problem, little one. See, you didn’t get it. I just told you. He’s fine, I like him, he’s not the problem, I’m the problem, because I didn’t want this to turn into what it is today and--”

“Mr. Anderson,” the kid gets up on his knees and puts a hand on his shoulder, watching him intently, “What is the problem with this guy?”

And Blaine swallows. His fingers close nervously around the soft fur of the dog, and when he opens his mouth to speak again it’s not words that come out but a waterfall.

“God-- he’s so boring,” he starts off, nervously, “He can’t talk about anything that isn’t dancing, dancing, dancing. Shit, I like dancing too, I love it, actually, but can you have any other interest? Anything at all? Reading, movies, miniature collection, anything, even things I don’t like, as long as you can talk about something _different_! And he’s so clingy, for fuck’s sake, three seconds after getting together he was already _casually_ leaving shit in my house and then saying oh, yes, since it’s already here, it’s practical to have one at your place too, Jesus fuck, you don’t have to mark the territory, it’s not like I’m gonna start bringing other people home, since now we’re together! And the way he has to constantly demand something of me without bothering to _say_ it, that’s draining me. He’s been wanting me to officially ask him to move in with me for months, but he’ll die before he’s the one proposing! No, it has to be me! It has to come from me! But he spends all hours we’re together making sure, with his silence, that I know he knows that I know that he wants me to be the one asking! And also, why does he take for granted that I _want_ him to move in? That I want this to move forward in any direction at all? It’s like he thinks yes, we’ve been at this for a year, more or less, at this point we might as well turn it into forever, but why the hell should that be? Feelings are fluid, they’re constantly in flux, he’s not the only person I’m interested in, in my life, you know? I look around, I see people I like, I want to be with those people! But no, we’re _together_, so those people are not opportunities, they’re _temptation_, they must be defeated, but what if I don’t want to? Why doesn’t he ask for my opinion? Why should we move in a certain direction just because he expects us to?! Jesus! I can’t take it anymore!”

Halfway through his heated monologue, Pagnotta has woken up. He has landed off his lap and has stared at him through the whole speech. Now that such speech is over, the dog sits on his ass, raises both front paws and yaps loudly, three times. Then he walks back to Cody, climbs on his lap and goes back to sleep there.

“Jesus...” Blaine says, passing a hand through his hair, still surprised at himself that all of that came out in front of a complete stranger, which is also, coincidentally, a child. The cutest he’s ever seen, sure, but still a child.

“Mr. Anderson...” Cody says, smiling sympathetically, “I think there are some things you should discuss with your boyfriend. You… you made a few valid points, but honestly,” he chuckles, “You can’t expect people not to expect anything from someone, when they’re in love with that person. And if I have to be honest...” he looks down, smiling an embarrassed smile, “I feel for your boyfriend, just a little.”

“And why is that?” Blaine asks curiously.

Cody looks up at him. The sun is setting, turning the sky pale pink and dark red, and his eyes are glistening like supernovas. “If I were your boyfriend, and you were about to break up with me,” he says, “I’d be devastated.”

Blaine’s brain explodes a little, and in the numb, flashing-white seconds that follow that explosion he thinks clearly that if Cody were indeed his boyfriend he would never have to worry about being dumped. 

“You’re pretty shameless, to be fourteen,” he utters, locking eyes with him.

“Um… sorry,” Cody says, though he doesn’t look sorry at all, “It doesn’t happen often to meet someone like you. I figure-- I’ll never see you again, so...” he shrugs, “I might as well be honest.”

“Honesty can be dangerous, pet,” Blaine says, daring him to keep up this façade by getting closer and smirking at him.

The kid doesn’t budge a millimeter. “But it can be rewarding,” he says.

And Blaine decides the kid needs to be rewarded. If nothing else, for listening to his crazy ramblings.

So he leans in, and places his lips against Cody’s. It’s a short, dry, sweet kiss, and Pagnotta yaps in agreement, approving it entirely, but so doesn’t do the security agent that happens to pass by the very moment their lips part.

“Hey!” the man says, directing his flashlight beam towards them, “What the hell are you doing, you perv?! He’s a child!”

“Fuck-- shit!” Blaine stands up and grabs Cody’s hand, dragging him along, “Let’s go!” he says, and Cody smiles like a kid ready to jump on the park’s new roller coaster. He nods and they run, they run together, chased by the man and the flashlight, at first, then only by Pagnotta’s yapping.

Ten minutes or so after, once Blaine’s sure they lost the man, he finally stops, heaving, behind a nice pale red building bearing the sign of a tourist B&B. Cody laughs happily in between heavy breaths, and Blaine laughs too, shaking his head.

“This isn’t fun!” he says, but Cody laughs harder.

“I disagree.”

“Yap!” the dog says, excitedly running in circles all around them.

As he leans against the wall with his back, trying to catch his breath while at the same time still laughing, Blaine notices he’s still holding the corn flakes booklet in his hand. He opens it up and turns the pages to the last one, reading the ending, out of curiosity.

_“So remember, kids: temptation might feel good, but it is going to hurt you if you give in to it. Remember not to put too many corn-flakes in your milk and always brush your teeth after breakfast!_” the silly thing says.

Blaine looks around, finds a bin and tosses it into it. Then he turns back to Cody. “Do you have plans for the night?” he asks.

The kid blushes.

The dog yaps.


End file.
